Never Fail
by Kagome-Loves-Kouga
Summary: It's been years since Wesker was supposedly killed. How does Claire Redfield-- The sister of the blonde man's nemesis-- react when she finds him sitting at her kitchen table late at night after she returns home from a mission?
1. The Beginning of It All

**Never Fail  
**_**Chapter One: The Beginning of It all**_

* * *

Her head was pounding and something uncomfortably warm and sticky and heavy was crushing her into the mattress. She wiggled out from under the thing slowly and it groaned.

Then the night went rushing back. No, she hadn't had sex, but it certainly looked like she had. But she was still fully clothed, and his shirt was off.

She didn't even _know_ who the hell this guy was. She remembered meeting a guy at the gym. He'd been single, and he'd had a bottle of vodka in his car. She'd thought, what the hell, and they'd gotten stone-cold drunk, and she'd brought him to her apartment, and that's the last thing she remembered.

She sighed, attempting to bully the headache from her thoughts. She grabbed him and dragged him out of her apartment, then dumped him in the hallway several doors down. She then returned to her apartment, made sure nothing of his was left—except the empty vodka bottle, which she threw out her window and it landed in a dumpster across the dingy alleyway and shattered.

She rarely got drunk, but sometimes she needed to just forget everything even if the price was one hell of a hangover. But that was the good thing about her and drinking, she mused, her body processed the substance better than others because she was in better physical shape.

The small, old apartment's walls were peeling, chipped and yellowed from age, and she was glad she was getting out of this place that day. She heard a loud "What the _fuck_?" Out in the hallway and an amused smirk grew onto her lips.

'_Looks like sleeping sweaty woke up.' _She chuckled, and then started packing. She was only in the southern part of Ohio because she had gone for some information, anything left on Umbrella's horrors. That and an extremely small underground lab had been found, and she'd been sent to deal with the miniscule numbers of Cerberus, infected researchers, and Lickers—who had taken care of the Hunters, for some reason. It hadn't taken more than fourteen shotgun shells, and her old Browning HP's clip to take the monsters out.

Really, it was a pathetic reason to have to stay in this place for a week, but she'd managed. Ohio was a really boring spot, she knew, but it was nice to be able to be here during September, killing off infected corvedai in a remembrance of that day eight years before.

Being twenty-eight, she had been part of the B.S.A.A ever since the T-veronica virus thing blew over. A few years ago Wesker had been killed, as reported, by a rocket launcher and a volcano. Even he must have surely died.

And if he didn't, the Uroboros project and all connecting data to it had been lost—the work of a self-destruct order to the single backup left of it left by the former S.T.A.R.S captain as a failsafe. In the last few years she'd cut all connections to Terrasave, mostly because it had begun to annoy her. You couldn't always follow the rules if you wanted to save lives in time, but the N.G.O wouldn't accept that.

Not only did being in B.S.A.A help her from getting sued, but it had given her a chance to find her life's goal in an easy-to-reach setting. Unfortunately, this had been the first mission left open for her after the long absence of anything to do. Since Umbrella's old spills and dormant labs were causing all the trouble, things had been rather slow. She should be grateful, she knew, but it had almost driven her to be a hand-to-hire at one point, or take an extremely long term mission—that the last fifteen operatives had died on.

As she got into her rental van, she relaxed as she drove to the airport where her transport to the B.S.A.A HQ in the states would come. It was somewhere in Colorado, where she had a nice apartment of her own that was closer to the rest of her friends and her brother. She grabbed her light bag and then got into the jet with a hello to the pilot, and then she was staring out the window.

She was tired, and she had a terrible hangover. But she didn't really want to fall asleep. Her head tilted onto the headrest, and she let her eyes slide shut. _'Just for a minute,'_ she thought tiredly. _'Just a minute…'_

And with that Claire Redfield was asleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Miss Redfield?" The pilot asked her, shaking her shoulder.

She merely mumbled something about pancakes burning and kicking someone's ass before her eyes opened up. A pink tinge spread across her cheeks. "S-Sorry Clint. Dreaming about breakfast at my brothers." She cracked her back as she checked her bag—which had been setting on her lap, but she found it on the floor.

He gave a laugh. "That's fine. We're here, obviously. See you." With that he left, and she departed the plane alone. She shouldered her pink backpack and headed to the car she'd left parked there the whole week. She got in and slid the keys into the ignition, the hangover she had had just a mere distant memory as she drove home, listening to the radio talk show people blather on about stupid topics.

When she pulled into her building's parking lot she put her backpack on her shoulders and started in. When she got back to her room door she sensed something wrong, but she shrugged it off. It was simply strange to be in her apartment after a week when she was used to longer trips.

So she entered, and walked in after flipping the lights on. She sighed and inhaled the days-old stale scent of air. Why the hell she'd been forced to settle in Colorado escaped her mind for a second—then she remembered how she liked being so close in contact with everyone, even though the Umbrella Horrors part of her life was steadily drawing to a close. She couldn't say she was glad about that, and it worried her slightly.

She looked to the small table where she kept photos. There was a picture of Jill, Chris, Barry and Rebecca. There was a picture of Leon and her and Ada—who had come to their aid many times and eventually joined their side. Those pictures represented who they had survived with, their fellow survivors. There was a picture of Leon and Ada—who were planning to marry soon, Chris and Jill—they weren't married but they were just as close as if they were. She had a picture of Barry and his family, but had never met his wife and three daughters. And then there was a picture of her by herself, in a white cotton sundress last year at her birthday party, her smiling as she held a present in her lap and read the tag.

She preferred to have candid shots of herself instead of traditional pictures. That one had been snapped by Chris when he had been fiddling around with his new camera—which he still couldn't use right. She walked into her bedroom and dumped her bag on her bed, then went to the kitchen. She was far too used to jet lag to notice it anymore. But that didn't mean she didn't want a cup of coffee.

As she entered, she froze dead in her tracks at the blonde man sitting at the table, hands folded neatly and politely as he waited for her. "Hello, dear heart." He greeted unabashedly.

"…Hello…" She waved, confusion sweeping over her form although she was calm.

He simply sat there. "What? Did Christopher really believe that he had killed me? Did you believe he had?"

She shook her head after her thoughts had run into a conclusion like ink on a wet paper ran into smears. "No, but I didn't want to burst his bubble," She spoke cautiously. "It would take a nuclear warhead to kill you. Maybe more."

He gave a smile—not a cruel smirk, but a smile, she noted. "I am pleased that you are not as brash as your brother." He spoke as she walked over to the coffee maker and pushed the start button after making sure she put the essentials into it.

"Yeah, well, if I had been Chris I would have probably brought out my knife and tried to slash you." She spoke lightly, and he knew it was true and he chuckled at the thought.

"Ah… but that's the past." She gave a nod. "Aren't you worried about me being alive and in your kitchen?" He asked.

"Not really," She admitted. "You would have killed me and high-tailed it out of here if you wanted to."

He gave a nod. "Smart girl."

She sat down across from him and sat down, her hands clasped underneath her chin. "Then why _are_ you here?"

He gave a shrug. "I don't know, dear heart. I got the overwhelming urge to visit someone from my past, and here we are."

"Funny," She let her eyes twinkle with mischief. "The last time I saw you, I got trodden on." And she let out a laugh. She didn't mind it anymore, and she had escaped it with a simple bad bruise and no scars.

"Well then," He sighed in amusement. "I guess you did." His eyes were fixed on her form, she knew, and as of late she really hated sunglasses.

"You know," She started out. "There's no point wearing those sunglasses. It's not like my neighbors are snoops, and I've already seen your eyes."

He paused for a moment, then his hand reached up and took them off, then folded them and placed them in his blazer pocket. "I suppose so, Miss Redfield."

She was pleased that he'd taken his glasses off willingly—then a bit confused as to why she was pleased. "Thank you. You're just as handsome and mysterious without them, plus you're more inconspicuous with them off." She pointed out. "Some dark coloured contact lenses and I know that if you passed my brother without saying anything, he'd pass you off as the average male." She pushed her hands through her bangs. Her hair had only been allowed to grow an inch from the last time he'd seen her.

"Really? Well, interesting suggestion. I may take your advice and get a pair or two." He chuckled. It really was a good suggestion, after he thought about it.

She was a bit caught off guard when he took her advice seriously. Perhaps he was trying to be friendly, now that his world domination dreams had crumbled? "Well, you can get them cheap but you'd probably need to order them off the internet, or something. You know, get them dark enough to hide the amber."

He soaked that in, then looked around her kitchen. "I expected you to own at least a small house by now, Miss Redfield. Or at least someone living with you."

She shook her head. "Nah. I'm only twenty-eight, and I'm too preoccupied with missions and stuff."

"Ah. Ambition?" He asked.

"I guess so. Just trying to find a balance and a purpose while Umbrella's horrors are fading away into nothing." She then heard the alarm on the coffee maker go off. "Ah, excuse me. Do you like creamer or milk in your coffee?"

He shook his head. "Just sugar, thank you." She nodded.

"'Kay. That's all I put in mine. I just keep that stuff around for when people stop by." She fixed it, then handed the warm mug to Wesker as she sat back in her seat with her own cup. She took a long drought of it before she sighed in near-pleasure.

"Coffee addiction?" He guessed.

"More like it's the only thing that lures me out of bed in the morning." She gave a snort. "Besides, the caffeine helps when I don't get much sleep, or if I had bad dreams."

"Why are you so honest?" He asked suddenly.

"Well…" She took a sip of coffee. "It's because I know that you won't go using it behind my back. I've got nothing to lose by being honest." She sighed and set the mug down with a _clink_. "Besides, Chris was always the one who was brash and rushed into things guns blazing. I preferred to actually think it through then do it his way. Too dangerous… he just has blind luck sometimes."

He nodded. "That describes it well," He commented.

They sat in a comfortable silence and drank their coffee for about eight minutes.

"Well, if you don't mind and don't think me rude, I have to go to bed. It's about eleven." She spoke, glancing up at the clock. She didn't know how long the trip had taken, because she'd been asleep the whole time and she knew she'd woken up late.

"Certainly not," He assured her. "You're definitely not rude, and I don't mind. But… Dear heart, would you like to help me with something?" He asked it quickly, as if knowing she may say no.

"Depends." She shrugged.

"I'll tell you in the morning." He nodded, then headed for the balcony.

"You can crash here tonight, you know." She called, stopping him in his tracks and making him turn. "I don't mind. There's a guest room next to mine. Make yourself at home." She started towards her room, and then she picked up the front of her shirt and gagged. She hadn't changed clothes before she'd left, having been nearly late for her transport.

That meant that she still carried the slight smell of vodka and not-so-slight smell of sweat on her, where that stranger had been laying on her. "Urgh. On second thought, you'll hear the shower running." He chuckled as she entered the bathroom, stripping her shirt off on the way into the door before shutting it with her foot.

She couldn't believe she'd given a 'maybe' to an offer made by one of the most dangerous men she knew. But that was back when he had true ulterior motives. He'd learned that power that intense had nearly killed him, and from speaking to him briefly and observing him knew instinctively that he wasn't suicidal. He valued his life and had given up the biggest pursuit of his existence to keep it.

She was a bit gladdened by it, because she'd been right about her thoughts. Unless he'd gotten mixed up in something and had to come to her, the sister of his nemesis for eternity.

She let the hot water run through her hair before squeezing shampoo onto it. She fumbled with the bottle—damn thing was slick from built up soap scum, she noticed with distaste—and she dropped it unceremoniously onto her right foot, it grazing her shin on the way down.

"Son of a BITCH!" She cursed and bit her tongue. She rubbed her leg and foot where it had hit and knew that she'd have a bruise there. Or perhaps she wouldn't. All the abuse her body had taken over the years kept her from getting minor bruises from banging into things, but then again, the shampoo bottle was a heavy family sized bottle.

She grumbled as she scrubbed her hair and then rinsed it, then put conditioner on her long auburn locks. She grabbed her razor from the small built in shelf and then bent over to shave her legs. She got through most of it without much hassle, but then she nicked herself on the back of her thigh. "Fuck!" She hissed, the cut stinging with the hot water's flow.

She placed it back onto a shelf and then rinsed her hair out again until she was sure it was clean, then stepped out of the shower, careful to not slip or trip on the high lip of the tub. _'Urgh…A new cut _and_ a probable bruise. What the hell is with my luck today?'_ She grumbled in thought then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, her hair already drying as she brushed it. She sighed as she dried off her body then almost smacked herself on the forehead when she glanced to the top of the wicker hamper she usually put her bedclothes on for easy access—and found nothing.

'_Shit, Shit, SHIT.' _She cursed, staring at the doorknob tentatively. Wesker was out there… and he was staying in the room next to hers. That and she didn't know where he was, exactly. He could be anywhere from her kitchen to her guestroom. And she didn't want him to see her in this damned threadbare, clingy and short towel. She steeled her reserve before placing a hand on the shining knob, and turned it before she could second-guess herself.

She was around ten steps from her bedroom door when she heard a chuckle from behind her. She sighed and turned.

"Do you always run around your apartment in indecent attire like this?" He asked, smile on his lips.

"No," She admitted. "But I needed a shower and forgot to get my bedclothes, that's all." She then retreated into her bedroom and closed the door, hoping he hadn't seen the blush spread across her cheeks when he surprised her.

She then made sure she was dried off and slipped into her black sleeping flannel pants, and a white spaghetti-strap shirt with a built-in bra, and then exited her room with the damp towel as she headed to the bathroom and dumped it into the hamper with the rest of her dirty clothes.

She brushed her teeth in the sink then flipped the light-switch, bathing the room in dark blue and black hues as the bulbs turned off. She made her way to the end of the hallway where her room was, and peeked her head into her guest room. "Good night, Wesker." She spoke politely, then went into her own room and got into bed.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

A peaceful morning light reached through the small window to caress the pale, fair face of the pretty auburn-haired woman on the bed as birds twittered in the park across the street.

The calm was shattered by said pretty pale woman's alarm going off with enough noise to raise the undead… again. "Argh… _fuck_. Why did I even set you?" Her voice pierced the faint chirping of birds and she swiftly hit the 'snooze' button on the contraption. Hard.

She rose from her bed, stretching her arms over her head and ears spared from the overly cheery music the birds made as she exited her room, feet padding noiselessly on the carpeted floor.

As she entered her kitchen she stared blankly at the blonde tyrant sitting calmly at her kitchen table, reading the newspaper, but then the night before rushed back to her, and she smiled. "Hello Wesker." She greeted cheerfully, spirits recharged from a good night's sleep.

"Hello dear heart." He replied absently, flicking through the pages uninterestedly. "I see you're in a better mood."

"Yeah… it's how having a good sleep with no nightmares helps. Anyway, how was your night?"

"Pleasant enough." He nodded. "I already started the coffee." He added right before the old coffee maker beeped, announcing rather annoyingly that it was done brewing.

"Thanks." She spoke as she poured and prepared two mugs and set one by his hand on a coaster as she carried hers with her and took sips as she glanced into the fridge. "Do you want anything to eat?" She asked as she dug through something wrapped in tin-foil—probably a piece of chicken or something left over from a dinner at a friend's house.

"You don't have to…" When she turned and gave him a pointed look, he stopped in mid-sentence. "Some toast would be fine."

"Alright then," She got out the half-loaf of bread and a tub of butter. "Toast it is."

* * *

**K.L.K- Soooo? How was it? Good? Bad? Is Wesker so OOC nobody will read this? Is Claire in character enough to be alright? Am I completely off my rocker in respects for the idea on this story?**

**Claire- Is the Authoress asking far too many questions?**

**K.L.K- (dead-panned stare) Gee, thanks Claire… Well, anyway, let's get it out of the way—this disclaimer applies to the WHOLE story! I. Do. Not. Own. Resident. Evil!**

**Wesker- (Flips through newspaper) Couldn't you supply a better article of reading material? Perhaps one of the lemons you are working—**

**K.L.K- (laughs nervously) What? What lemons? Wesker, you should stop taking acid, it's bad for you.**

**Ripredisawesome- In true Kim style! Goooo Scarlett! (Disappears in the flash of a Deku Nut) **

**K.L.K- Yes, I am writing lemons. No, I won't put any of them up. Yet. And Wesker, stop trying to hack into my files… you arse… You'll get to read them later…**

**Wesker- (stops) Fine.**

**K.L.K- Please—**

**Ada- (pops out of the closet) Review!**

**K.L.K- (poisonous stare at her)**

**Ada- …(disappears out the window quickly)**


	2. Plans and WalMart

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~Never Fail  
**_**.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~Chapter Two: Plans… And Wal-mart?**_

* * *

Claire Redfield stood over the old, dinged toaster vigilantly, staring down at the glowing heating coils within it's dark depths. _'Why the hell would Wesker want my help with _anything_? After all, I'm his most hated nemesis's sister…'_

'_Maybe he has changed. Maybe he doesn't care as much about Chris… It has been a few years, ne? Plus don't you find it invigorating that _Wesker_, the superhuman tyrant-1000, would come to _you_?'_ The voice in the back of her mind asked.

'_Oh… It's you again.'_ Claire replied dully. _'I actually thought you'd be gone.'_

The voice was something she couldn't explain, but she knew it was normal. People needed to converse, naturally, and many people talked to themselves out loud. Why not save the odd stares and talk to yourself in the privacy of your own mind?

'_Well, _thanks_ for the concern,'_it replied, words dripping with sarcasm. _'But you ought to—_'

Something very hot flashed towards her face and she stumbled back, caught unaware and blue eyes wide.

'…_Move.'_ The voice finished off lamely.

'_Shut up, you,'_ Claire retorted before taking the hot slices of toast out of the device, only burning one of her digits slightly when it touched the hot metal guard on the top as she had to reach in for one of the slices.

"Stupid toaster," She explained as she turned back to Wesker, setting the plates that had three slices each along with the butter and a knife, "Sometimes they pop up, sometimes they don't. And if they do and you're watching it, they usually can hit you in the face."

He was silent as he buttered his toast, and after taking a bite and swallowing, looked around her kitchen. "Why do you use these old appliances?"

She blinked. "Well… I don't know. The toaster was an apology gift after Rockfort Island from Chris." Her eyes landed on the most used appliance. "The coffee maker was a gift from Rebecca on my twenty-fourth birthday. In fact, all of them were gifts, except the refrigerator."

He blinked the same as she had, soaking it in. "So you keep them for sentimental reasons?"

"Yeah…" She cracked a smile after she ate half a piece of toast. "That and they still work. I don't see the problem with them as long as they still run half decently."

He gave a smile and chuckled. "Waste not, want not," He quoted.

"Exactly. Besides, if I have time to go out shopping for things to use in this apartment, I have far too much time on my hands." She chuckled, then they quieted down and finished their breakfasts.

"Do you still want to help me, dear heart?" He asked after they had drank at least half their coffees.

"Like I said, depends." She shrugged. "Go ahead; shoot." She leaned back in her chair, eyes intent but relaxed.

"Well, I know you have a penchant for destroying Umbrella's old messes," He chuckled, and her lips twisted into a smile. "And I need your help with 'cleaning' up an old laboratory."

She nodded. "That all?" This sounded far too easy.

"Well…" He spoke somewhat hesitantly. "We have to negotiate with a group of men in order to get access to this area. They've been trying to collect the leftover virus samples and data from this area for a very long time… but they've always failed."

Ah, there's the catch. "Hmm." She hummed in further question.

"They want us to go in. They want me because I know the access codes, and I want you because you know every possible way to kill the infected corvedai contained within the facility without destroying anything important. They want the samples as a terroristic advantage, or to sell them on the black market for billions."

"And you want them for…?" She trailed off.

"To stop them from being released in the world, and I need some samples to test." He replied.

"What do you need them for, though?" She knew he wasn't being hostile… So he was telling the truth.

"I'm not going to tell you an answer you don't want to hear, dear heart." He spoke lightly.

"Good. I really don't _want_ to know." She smiled faintly.

"You'll be paid handsomely for this, I assure you." He added in forethought. "And the weapons and ammo will be provided by myself, of course, as well as transportation to the site."

"You drive a hard bargain, Wesker. That and the fact that I'm bored as hell with the lack of missions that I'm sick of wasting my life away here makes my decision easy." She sucked in a breath. "Sure, I'll join you on this endeavor.. The mission is basically go in, get the data and samples, get out, screw over the employers, right?"

He gave a nod and she grinned.

"This is gonna be fun. When do we leave?" She asked, eyes shining in excitement.

"In a day our transport will arrive. We have until ten am tomorrow to gather supplies and move out." He spoke in short terms.

"Good." She smiled, then she traced her eyes over his form. "Well, you know what I was saying about the coloured contact lenses?"

He gave a nod.

"Well, I think it would be a good idea to get some." She smirked.

"Where, exactly, do you think we would be able to get coloured contacts at such short notice?" He asked, a blonde eyebrow rising a fraction at her off-the-wall suggestion.

"Wal-mart." She retorted matter-of-factly.

"…Where?" his head tilted in slight confusion.

She felt her eyebrow twitch. _'You have GOT to be kidding me.'_

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"So this is 'Wal-mart'?" He asked as they pulled into the giant supercenter's humongous parking lot, his mirrored sunglasses in place.

"Yup." She nodded as she parked within the mass of multi-coloured cars. "It's where a lot of people shop, and it's usually cheaper than other stores. Plus it has a bunch of things to sell." She turned the key, shutting off the ignition, then slid her keys into her front pocket of her black skinny jeans, and she started to get out of the car.

Wesker followed suit and winced as a car drove past, blaring rap music that would make a sailor's ears bleed. "What the…?"

"Rowdy people," She explained briefly as he followed her near the entrance. He looked cautiously around at the group of teens hanging outside, chatting and laughing, and the little kid sobbing as his father pulled him away from the toy-filled crane machines. He hurried slightly to keep up with Claire as she entered the automatically-opening doors and was hit in the face by a blast of air.

"Hello Miss. Hello Sir." A person standing on a slightly elevated and padded black mat greeted with a cheesy smile as Claire ignored them, and strolled down the entrance aisle.

"I need to pick up a few things as well," She mentioned. "So I hope you're okay with the store." She spoke consolingly. "It's not the best but it does carry stuff, and so many people go through here a day nobody notices you."

He gave a hesitant nod. "And… you are certain they have what I need here?"

She nodded. "I'm sure of it. I passed their selection of coloured lenses when I came here last week…" She trailed off as she directed him into the food section. Goosebumps raised on her exposed arms-flesh but she ignored it as she reached for a few apples, and then looked thoughtfully at the strawberries. _'Jill's gonna be pissed that I'm going away… plus she loves strawberries.' _She reached for them and just as her hand touched the plastic carton the sprinklers came on over the produce, and she jumped a bit backwards, taking the carton with her. "Goddamn it, I hate when it does that," She muttered then placed them in the blue plastic basket she'd picked up at the entrance.

"It's amusing how you're scared by that but a whole army of Lickers and zombies doesn't faze you." He joked slightly and quietly.

She gave a whimsical smile. "Yeah… I guess it is." She laughed.

He felt warmth spread in his chest at her smile and their playful banter. Perhaps she would be… tolerable to have around. After all, a lot had changed since Chris had thought he'd killed him. And it seems his old enemy's 'baby sister' had grown into a rational, individualistic woman.

As she browsed through the aisle of granola bars and candy—she wasn't going anywhere without a stash of chewing gum, something solid to eat and something chocolate—they chatted about how things had gone in the past few years. Or more accurately, Wesker was listening as she filled him in what had been going on.

"Well… Becky and Billy are fiancés. They decided to get married after she rescued him from an old Umbrella base somewhere in China. It was blown up and no incident occurred, thankfully." She gave a warm, small smile. "Billy was so nervous he came to _me_ for help!" She laughed quietly, tossing a box of chewy strawberry Special K bars into her basket that was dangling from its handle hung on the crook of her arm. "It was quite funny, actually. A big strong ex-military-ish guy with an entire arm tattooed asking me how to woo Rebecca."

He chuckled. "It does sound amusing."

"Yeah… they're due to be married in December. Becky always said she wanted a wedding in the same month her parents got married…" She trailed off. "I'm sure that it'll be a nice wedding. Hopefully she can have her first dance with Billy as her husband in the snow like she always told me she dreamt about." He was a bit surprised to see that her eyes looked worn; a bit sad and lonely but still very happy for her friend. Almost wistful, even.

"Are you jealous of them?" He asked carefully.

"No…no. It's just I never had much luck with romance." She sighed. "When I was younger—before the Raccoon City incident, I dated a lot. Bad boys, preppy guys, jocks, a few gothic and emo ones as well. Even a few normal guys. Chris never approved… but then again I was a young Redfield."

He gave a nod. He remembered when Chris had been the rookie in his S.T.A.R.S division—he'd been reckless, crude, and a wild card. He'd been smart and strong but still reckless. A true Redfield, right to his core.

"But after I went through the Raccoon City thing, I dated very few people. I never saw the point—none of them had what it took to survive Umbrella's horrors. And then Rockfort Island happened. After that I stuck strictly to one-night stands and only when I was stone-cold drunk." She gave a laugh. "Other than that, I've been single."

He thought through her long explanation. "Well, at least you have sensible views, especially with what you've experienced and what you know is out there."

She gave a nod as she browsed through the packs of chewing gum. "Mm-hm."

"And it sounds like you have just put priorities in order. Yet… you're lonely. Why is that, dear heart?" His eyebrow raised slightly.

"Because. I'm always on missions—when I can get them, of course. Everyone else is either busy with their lovers or families while I'm stuck in my apartment alone. But it's not so bad. It's less stressful and I get loads of alone time." She gave a soft smile, like she was trying to reassure herself as she tossed two large packs of her favourite brand of chewing gum into the basket.

He gave a half-smile. He knew she was just trying to reassure herself and justify it… And it made some sort of sense to him. She was a dear heart, he thought, because she cared too much about other people and never thought of herself unless it was for her survival.

"Anyway, how long is this…err… _expedition_," She spoke, eyeing a woman in the same aisle carefully but briefly. "Going to take?"

"About a month." He answered. "I'm giving some leeway to it. No telling what will happen." She gave a nod as they traversed to the eyewear and medication section, many women giving Wesker looks that made him step closer to Claire so they would leave him alone.

And some men were eyeing up the young Redfield so she stepped closer to Wesker in an understood joint-attempt to be left alone as well.

They really didn't want attention drawn to themselves, and they were content with each other's company for the moment. Their efforts payed off when the admirer's stalked off, all of them looking rather dejected.

"Phew." She fake-wiped sweat off her forehead. "That was close."

"I know… it's so annoying it's not amusing anymore. It used to be, but…" she gave a nod, her eyes spelling out that she understood how he felt perfectly.

"Yep… Oh! Here they are," She tilted her head in the direction and they headed to the counter to check out all the different colours.

"Hmm… This one looks good," Claire giggled in a joking tone, pointing to a violent violet shade .

His eyebrow rose and she had to bite her tongue from bursting out in laughter.

"Okay, okay… What colour were your eyes before…?" She left the last part out, knowing there were keen ears all around them.

"They were blue. A pale, icy blue. But I suppose I could go with a darker shade…" He hummed in thought as he browsed over the selections.

"How about you get a few pairs? It might be handy to have an extra pair or two."

He nodded. "For my needs I'll probably just get two of each kind. These are made for non-prescription eyes, correct…?" Claire nodded.

"Yeah. They don't mess with your vision at all—trust me. I got a pair for a long mission a few years ago…" She smirked. "Worked like a charm."

"I do believe that smirk is reminiscent of me, dear heart," he joked lightly.

She chuckled. "Well, when you finish a mission that's killed five other operatives," She spoke quietly. "It does tend to give one confidence in these matters."

He nodded. "Ambition drove you to complete it although others had died, and that gave you a sense of completion and an assurance about your capabilities." He stated.

"Yeah, pretty much." Her eyes twinkled when the old, out-of-shape woman finally came back to her post at the counter. "Oh! Hello ma'am. We'd like two pairs of this colour," She pointed to an indigo blue, "This colour," She pointed to a cerulean coloured blue. "And this one." She pointed to a pale icy blue pair.

"Okay." She nodded, typing them into the cash register. "I have all of these kinds in back. Is that all?"

"And a pair of the amber ones for my female friend, if you would." She typed that in, and he handed her one of his cards. He had noticed she'd been admiring those when they had been trying to match colours to look natural, and they would look divine with her skin tone and hair.

"Alfie Wosk?" She asked and he nodded. She slid it through then got off her stool and waddled to a door in the back of her 'enclosure' of sorts. Claire shot him a surprised glance.

"Well, dear heart, since I thought they would be useful, I decided it might be useful to get you a pair as well. Who knows, you may very well need them."

She gave a nod and a smile after she thought through it. "True. If I put my hair down into a braid and put those in, nobody would be able to tell it was me. Nice thinking." She complimented lightly as the elderly woman waddled back out, carrying multiple boxes in a bag.

"I trust you know how to clean these?" She asked, and Claire nodded as Wesker followed suit. "Alright. Here's a bottle of cleaning solution—" She gave them both large bottles labeled 'Contact Cleaning Solution'. "You got the good kind of them. They don't irritate much… and they feel natural. They also stay in better than most of them would and won't rip as easily if you get something in your eye. In fact, there's a new improvement with their design so if whatever gets into your eye is over the lens, you can take it out carefully with no problems. Alright, have a nice day."

Claire peeked at the receipt and gaped at the large amount. "T-Two hundred dollars?!" She whispered.

"Well, Miss Redfield, did you really expect me to stay dormant these past years? No, I regained all my income and redeemed all my accounts."

She nodded. "And how many or how much you have is an answer I don't want to know."

He nodded and gave a half-smile. "You're very intuitive, Miss Redfield."

She smiled back. "And you're very inquisitive for being you, Wesker, but I find it slightly endearing. Ah, here we are," They'd arrived in the feminine hygiene aisle, and he blinked. She picked up a few boxes then tossed them into her basket. She caught his puzzled look, even from behind the glasses. "My menstrual periods are erratic when I exercise a lot—and by the sound of this mission, I very well may need these."

He nodded. "I'm glad I'm a scientist who deals with mutated abominations," He spoke quietly. "Otherwise I may have become disturbed by that."

She gave a laugh, then gestured to her basket. "Well, we might as well go to the checkout. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

He shook his head. "No. My clothes are on the transportation we're taking, and I can require very little sustenance if I am deprived of it."

Her eyebrow raised in thought. "Huh. That must come in handy." She commented as they walked to a mostly-empty checkout place, where Claire grabbed herself a bottle of coke-a-cola and Wesker accepted a bottle of coke zero grudgingly.

She began to take her black eel-skin wallet out to pay, but Wesker extended his card before she could even pull the money-holding device from her pocket.

The piercinged teenager looked almost awed at the man—but shook it off and rang up the items. "That will be forty-nine dollars even." She told them.

"Thank you…" Claire looked at the nametag. "Patricia. You're more polite and effective than some of the older cashiers. Nice name, and your hair looks great."

The gothic teen smiled. "Thanks Miss. I love that shade of hair, and you look great too." She packed up the bags for them and handed them to the two as they sorted out who would carry what.

On their way to the car after Wesker had swiped his card, he asked, "Why did you strike up a conversation with that cashier?"

"Well, you see, I used to work as a cashier when I was sixteen. It was a small, privately owned store, but… people were incessantly rude and I hated work. I just did it because it was money in me and Chris's pockets. Besides, she was nice and effective—not like the old biddies that nitpick and talk too much."

He paused, and then gave a nod. "I see. Did you quit that job as soon as you could?"

"I'm a Redfield, not a saint Wesker. If I had stayed there I would've lost it."

His eyebrow nodded at her grave tone. "Oh. I…ah… see." He coughed the last bit slightly, not getting what she meant fully.

She rolled her eyes. "It was both boring and maddening. I doubt anyone in the vicinity of three miles would be left alive had you worked there with your virus." She chuckled at the thought before throwing the bags—and placing the contact-filled one on the seat gently—before turning on the ignition and buckling up as Wesker sat in his seat, already hooked in. "Damn… your speed's great," She whistled as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"It does become helpful," He added thoughtfully. "While we're on the mission, if you are in danger of immediate death or infection, I will use it."

"Duly noted, but I doubt you'll get to use it. I've survived things like this before without a scratch—or bite—on me." She laughed as they slowed to a stop for a red light. "I'll be fine. Just worry about your goals on the mission, 'kay?"

He gave a light sigh. Why did she refuse almost perfect protection on a dangerous mission? "Fine, dear heart."

"Well, we're here," She spoke idly as she pulled the car to a stop in its usual parking spot, and then locked it before they took their purchases up to her apartment to try the contacts on and more importantly get ready for the mission happening the next day.

As they both looked into the bathroom mirror and slid their contacts on, Wesker was pleased to find the sensation was bearable on his eye, and that all of the contacts he had gotten covered up the fiery amber of his mutated eyes quite nicely.

He glanced over to Claire and his jaw loosened slightly before returning to its normal state. She looked dashing, even he admitted, with the amber contacts. More animalistic and intimidating with her edge of feminine softness.

Claire felt a warmth seep into her chest when she saw him with the coloured lenses in—he looked so normal… so young… so human. That and the fact that if Chris saw him without the sunglasses and in a lighter coloured shirt, he would pass him off as an average blonde male, even with that face shape. He would rationalize that Wesker's eyes were different—that this couldn't possibly be his old supposedly deceased nemesis.

"Alright… time to pack," She murmured, and then stated in a regular voice, "You can take a shower, and do whatever. You may even come in and talk to me while I pack, if you want." She smiled, and then walked into her bedroom after he nodded.

She dragged her attaché case, large suitcase, pack, and gear out from under her two-person bed, checking the locking mechanisms to see if they were damaged at all—which they weren't, she sighed with relief. The Ohio labs had been rough on the attaché case and her backpack—getting batted around by lickers, zombies, and even a few worm-like things—Gravediggers were their name; Jill had told her, but they had been very small and weak from toxins that the researchers had been testing them for immunities. Not at all like the giant one the Valentine had fought in Raccoon City.

Out in the living room, Wesker was sipping at some warm—but not hot—coffee, relaxing whilst the Redfield packed. He knew she was sensible enough to know what to bring.

"Oww! Son of a _bitch!_"

That made him chuckle. It seems Miss Redfield was very clumsy when she wasn't fighting umbrella's infected monsters or in a survival situation.

He glanced around the apartment before his head snapped towards her door as she called out his name.

"Wesker, can you come in here and help me? I don't know what you'd want me to portray to these people!" She sounded frustrated, he decided.

He gave a half smile and chuckled. "I'll be right there, dear heart," He called back and then walked swiftly to the door, which he entered immediately.

He saw her standing at her small closet and dresser, shoulders hunched in confusion. She turned slightly, her face a bit torn between what to bring and what not to bring.

"Well, we will be attending a dinner, so something dressy. Preferably black so we look like a team." She nodded, and then took out a black dress.

'_That would look divine on her with those contacts,'_ He thought before he nodded. "That would work."

She packed it up with a pair of strappy stiletto heels in her suitcase.

"Some black clothing." He replied to her look that said to go on.

"Hmm… are jeans okay?" She glanced back and saw his nod before giving a smile. "Good. As you can see, I don't have many clothes. Will it be hot or cold where we are going?"

"Mildly warm; but we'll be inside all the time, and the laboratories are always a bit chilly." He spoke after a minute of thought.

"Okay then." She nodded, then grabbed all her pairs of dark jeans—some skinny, some flared, some with worn holes on her thighs or knees—and a few pairs of lighter ones just in case. She grabbed her usual outfit—a pair of blue jeans, a black reinforced top, and her 'Made in Heaven' vest. But she put the vest back and switched it for a tactical vest—her favourite clothing piece was far too recognizable to bring with her if she wanted to keep her name untied to all of this—whatever it all was, anyway.

"Smart choices," He commented, looking over all the clothes she packed neatly and tightly into the suitcase.

"Yeah. I was raised by my brother, remember?" She gave a short laugh.

"So you were…" He spoke quietly as she took black shirts from her closet, and she was mumbling about how she'd have to either wear them twice or wash them. "Why is that, dear heart?" his bared animalistic, amber eyes were soft in her direction as she glanced to them.

She let out a breath. "Our parents were killed, Wesker. They were gunned down at an incident at a mall… we didn't know until the next day. They were sick, anyway… they wouldn't probably be alive today, and if they were, they'd be in a hospital or nursing home." Her eyes were saddened. "I'm glad you asked, though, instead of just snooping." She spoke softly after a few moments of silence punctuated by the quiet ruffle of folding clothes.

He didn't reply. She took three pairs of shoes—sneakers, her biker boots were on her feet, and a pair of combat boots Jill had gotten her in case her biker boots were damaged.

As she packed the last pair of slacks and combat trousers into her suitcase, Wesker popped open her extra-large attaché case. "Hmm… Miss Redfield, you take good care of your guns." He noted aloud, seeing the gleaming Browning HP that had a few scratches and dents. He took it out and showed it to her. "An old favourite?" he mused.

A soft, sad smile came onto her face. "Leon gave me that gun nearly a decade ago… during the Raccoon City incident. Without it, I'd be dead."

He placed it back, gently into her attaché case. "I…See. I'm glad he gave you that, dear heart, otherwise I would not have anyone to accompany me on this mission."

Warmth seeped into her chest. Wesker basically just said he was glad she survived. "Thanks, Wesker."

* * *

**K.L.K- FINISHED! I am sorry if this either disappointed you or isn't of good enough quality to take this long…but--**

**Claire- My god! You took **_**forever**_** to get this out!**

**K.L.K-…Well, thanksgiving… beating Resident Evil 4… watching game walkthroughs and preparing to go to my grandmother's for about three to four days… I'd say I've been busy.**

**Claire- Well… when you put it like that…**

**Wesker- (stops dead in his tracks headed towards the couch) Did you say… You're going to your grandmother's for **_**three to four days**_**? **

**K.L.K- YES, I did… and it's gonna be **_**torture**_**. I just hope I can sleep a lot or hang out with friends, because I don't think they have wireless internet at their house, which means I can't use my laptop comfortably. Dammit…THE SITE'S DOCUMENT EDITOR IS BEING AN ASSHOLE, Aaaaaaargh! (slams head on desk)**

**Claire- (sighs and ignores the authoress's outburst pointedly) so that means no update for those days?**

**K.L.K- Hey, I'll need something to keep myself occupied! I'll work on updating some of my stories… btw 'I Survived' is still one of my favorites and a priority, but I lost the third chapter I had been working on… so I'm trying to wait a bit so I don't get frustrated at re-writing it. **

**Wesker- that's a good thing… There's still a dent in the wall from last time…**

**K.L.K- Err… Hehe? And I was pissed off then… anyway, please—**

**Barry- Review for a—**

**Jill- Barry, I swear to god, if you say a Jill sandwich… (glare of doom)**

**K.L.K- The hell? You're not in the story yet! BEGONE! (Waves hands around mysteriously)**

**Barry/Jill-… (Dejectedly walk from the room and yell as they leave) Review!**

**K.L.K- (eye twitch)**


	3. Phone Calls and Video Games

**Never Fail**_**  
Chapter Three: Phone Calls and Video Games**_

* * *

Wesker watched her as she fussed over the phone, trying to decide who to call first. "Just call someone… You have to tell them all that you'll be on a 'mission' for a month." He monotoned.

"Argh…fine." She dialed in a number and someone picked up after a few rings.

"_Hello? Chambers Residence." _The female voice toned with a rather chipper attitude.

"Hey Becky." She greeted, smile on her lips though the redhead couldn't see it.

"_Claire! Ah, how was the mission in Ohio?"_

"Eh, it was alright. Crappy room though. Hey, can I talk to both you and Billy?"

"_Sure. Let me get him on the phone."_ She leaned away from the phone, hair rustling on the plastic casing. You could hear the _"Hey Billy, pick up the other phone so you can talk to Claire!" _and a faint affirmative shout.

"_Hello?" _The male's voice broke through the click of the second phone connecting.

"Hello Billy." She greeted, sitting down on the couch in her living room.

"_Oh, Hi Claire! What's up?"_

"Well, I'm just calling because I'm going on a mission early tomorrow…" She twiddled with her thumb and the hem of her shirt.

"_Oh. Well, you're welcome to stop by," _Rebecca said.

"_Yeah, we'd love to see you." _Billy added.

"Oh, guys, I don't know… Listen, I'll call you if I can, alright?"

"_Okay."_ They both answered at the same time.

"Alrighty then. Gotta go. Bye." After they bid their byes, she hung up.

Time for Leon and Ada. She dialed their number and it picked up after about five rings, both of them on the line.

"_Hello?"_ They both asked.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Hey Ada. Hey Leon."

"_Oh hey, Claire!"_

"_Claire, wow, I haven't heard from you for a week!"_

"Yeah… Mission in Ohio."

"_Wow… that must have sucked."_

"Ahhhhh… it was boring and the room was tacky, but oh well." She sighed. "Anyway, they called me back in for another mission—this time a long one."

"_Aww, I don't get to see you before you leave?"_ Leon pouted, tone sad at the fact he wouldn't get to see his best gal pal.

"_That's a shame," _Ada pouted too. _"I wanted to have some girl time."_

"Sorry Ada. And Leon, I'll hang out when I get back."

"_Claire… is this mission dangerous?"_

Her breath hitched, but she was pretty sure it didn't register on the phone. "No, Leon. I'll be fine, and in one piece. It might not even take the full length that's allotted."

"_Claire… Be careful. I can't lose you, you're my best friend." _He spoke lowly.

"_And I've grown attached too… Tread carefully, okay?" _Ada spoke, sounding like she was comforting the blonde man but was truly concerned for the auburn-haired woman.

"Okay. I'll be careful. Gotta go call Jill and Chris, then Barry." She sighed. Their concern was touching, truly, but it was unneeded. She could take care of herself plus Wesker was taking a slight interest in her wellbeing on this trip. She inwardly shook her head—she never thought she'd think of Wesker and 'Interest in her wellbeing' in the same sentence.

"_Alright Claire. Be careful." _The Kennedy male spoke and Ada cut him off with a _"Yes… And when you get back we'll hang out."_

"Okay. Bye." She hung up after a click resounded from their end of the line. "Alright then, time for Jill and Chris…" She murmured. "Wesker?"

"Yes, dear heart?" He asked, looking up from a random book he'd pulled off a shelf on the small bookcase she had in the living room.

"I'm going to actually visit Jill and Chris, and I can call Barry afterwards." She twiddled with her thumbs, wondering if he'd go for it.

He shrugged. "Sure. I'll just stay in the car…"

"Okay then…" She mumbled as she quickly disappeared into the kitchen then promptly returned with the strawberries she'd bought. "Get some contacts in; we can't have them recognizing you, after all."

He nodded. "Right." And he slipped in the light, icy blue contacts and mussed his hair slightly so it wasn't in its usual perfect state, and tucked his sunglasses into his jacket pocket. "Now, Miss Redfield, shall we go meet and reassure your friends?" He rolled his eyes minutely and she chuckled.

"Yup. Hmm… Well, _Alfie Wosk,_ looks like you're a different person. And they probably won't talk to you… let's be under the ruse of that you're my teammate or link on the mission, and I had to pick you up on the way to the airport." She suggested, a mental light-bulb blinking on in her mind, and the name remembered from the credit card thing at Wal-mart earlier.

He gave a nod of approval. "Alright then. Let's go."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

As she was slowing to a stop, she couldn't help thinking about it. _'Wesker's letting me order him around a little, even if it is just a reminder. I don't like doing it, but he doesn't even think about it. It's strange… I better stop that. He doesn't seem the type to take that after noticing it.' _She pulled the car over and sighed, leaning her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes.

"What's wrong, dear heart?" The blonde asked, and his concealed eyes looked at her in slight worry.

"Nothing, Wesker……I'm fine." She gave a smile, then leaned to the backseat, took the strawberries, and got out of the car.

"I'll just try to look inconspicuous." Wesker smiled halfway and she nodded, then shut the car door and started the small trek to Jill and Chris's front door. When she got there she knocked barely once before the door was suddenly open and she was seized in a hug by her brother.

He'd bulked up before Wesker had supposedly died and had gotten huge—however he'd realized that he hated looking like a massive muscleman, and he let up a bit on his workouts, decreasing them so his muscles would shrink naturally but still stay strong and toned. He had returned to what he'd looked like at the T-veronica incident in Antarctica nine years ago, with an edge of definition that didn't make him look over muscled.

She was glad, too, because he'd been so focused on defeating Wesker he'd lost sight of what he'd been doing to himself. If he'd gotten badly internally bruised or something, it would have just bled out inside with no indication on the surface due to the fact his muscle layer was so thick and dense. She'd smacked him after he came back, too, because she hadn't seen him in around two years and hadn't gotten an eyeful of how he'd been working himself.

"Claire! Aww, how's my little sis doing!" He grinned, the neighbor that lived in the house next to his and Jill's—who was an old woman getting her paper grumbled and shook her fist at him before heading back inside.

"Great, great!" She squeaked slightly, and then hugged him back so hard he squeaked too. Just like their handshakes, their hugs were a show of character to them, at least to each other. "I brought Jilly a present," She winked, showing him the strawberries, and she went inside after he let her in.

She loved their place. It was nice, homey and had warm toned décor for the entire house. It reminded her of how a house would look in the country—things were where you used them, and in a comfortable layout. She went into the living room, and was glomped by a blue tee-shirt and jeans wearing, dyed-brown shorthaired Jill. "My god, Claire, you look great! The time up in Ohio must've been relaxing!"

"Meh, more like I slept a bunch." She shrugged, smile upon her face.

"So, who's the guy in the car? I saw him when I looked out the window…"

"Oh. That's Alfie Wosk; he's my partner for the mission. We're supposed to get acquainted, plus they wanted to cut back on the hotel room costs, you know how they are. Oh! Here." She passed the strawberries to the Valentine and the woman squeaked before opening it and poking them.

"Ooh, these look yummy!" She then disappeared to the kitchen to wash her present off to eat it.

The female Redfield rolled her eyes slightly. "Knew she'd love them…" she spoke amusedly.

"Anyway, how long is this _really_ gonna take?" Chris got straight to the point, she admitted. He always had when it came to matters like this, and especially when it was about her or connected to her. _'Always the protective brother, eh Chris?'_ She thought wryly.

"…About a month." She spoke a bit gruffly. The same tone he'd always used when he had to tell her exactly how long his missions would be.

"Sis… you got back yesterday." He said quietly.

"I know Chris… I know." She rubbed the back of her neck that was exposed by her high ponytail.

"Claire… I know you're bored, and want to find your purpose, but if you go on too many dangerous missions, you're going to slip up sometime, and then… you might not come back." He spoke, voice strained.

She was shocked for a minute, just staring at him with blank eyes that widened a fraction. _'He… he thinks I'm starting to go on a mission-spree, taking the most dangerous ones like he and Leon did to cope with the nightmares and pain… Oh Chris…'_ "Chris, it's not…" She didn't get to finish, as he cut her off with a tenderly pained look in his eyes.

"Tell me… just promise me, that you'll be careful. And when you get back, you'll talk to me about this." His eyes begged her.

"…I promise." She said, her voice a whisper. Her brother was torn, because he thought his baby sister was growing to be reckless like he was, barreling into danger just to feel alive. No, she'd gotten enough of that with how she got roped into the T-Veronica incident, when she'd just lost her logical side in her search for her brother.

He clapped her shoulder. "I know you'll be alright; you're my sister." With that he disappeared into the kitchen, not biding her bye.

Because he hated that. Saying bye or goodbye meant that you would either not see that person for a long time or never again. At least, he took it to be like that.

Jill waved out of the kitchen, having walked out before Chris walked in. She looked a bit worried at her boyfriend—and Claire motioned for her to go in and be with him, that she was going to leave then anyway.

The brunette nodded and Claire slipped quietly out the door.

"How was it?" Wesker asked interestedly.

"Well, it went _great_." She blew her bangs out of her left eye—how'd they get there?—speaking sarcastically, then continued in a normal tone. "Jill didn't really get to talk to me because she wanted to eat the strawberries, and Chris thinks I'm going on some kind of destructive mission spree like he and Leon did to cope with the pain and nightmares." She blew her bangs out of her eyes again after she leaned down to check if her boots were still fastened correctly… She did need to trim her bangs, after all. _'Maybe I'll do it tonight.'_ She thought absently.

"Oh… I see." He spoke quietly.

"It's alright," She sighed. "I promised Chris I'd talk to him when I got back… but he seemed so worried." She tilted her head back on the headrest. "Augh… why does he have to make things so difficult and make a mountain out of a molehill?" She murmured.

"Perhaps he is just worried. Why would he think you're going on a… so called, 'mission spree'?" The blonde asked her patiently.

"Well, it's because… Well, about three months ago I nearly became a hand-for-hire, and I very nearly went on a mission that had killed _fifteen operatives_." She spoke lowly. "There weren't any missions to do, and I was itching to do _anything_. He… he was worried for me, because I was always training at the firing range or gym in the B.S.A.A base, or just at home in my apartment alone." A sigh bubbled from her lips. "It…it's nothing. I was just searching for what I'm good at and supposed to do."

He nodded. "It's only reasonable. You've spent nearly ten years fighting the monsters and viruses Umbrella created. With that drawing to a close… you don't really have a direction."

"……Yeah." She whispered. She then got her cell out, and dialed Barry's number, then held it up to her ear as it rang.

"_Yello?" _The deep voice came through.

"Hey Barry." She smiled, even though he couldn't see.

"_Oh! Claire. It's good to hear from you."_

"Good to hear from you too. I'm sure Chris will call to tell you this, but I'm going to go on a long mission, 'Kay?"

"…_Claire, you just got back from one. One with the T-virus involved." _He deadpanned.

"It was just a few lickers, zombies, and baby gravediggers. It didn't take too much ammo, and it was mostly just a sit-and-wait mission, Barry. I didn't even get hurt. No skinned knees and no pulled muscles. Certainly no bites." The sigh bubbled through her lips.

"_Still, I'm starting to worry about you. Chris and I have been talking, and…"_

Her face grew hard, her voice toneless and clipped. "…I see."

"_Claire, it's just…"_

"I know you guys worry about me Barry, but I'm a big girl now. I can take care of myself."

"_I know… I gotta go, my Wife's making dinner." _He sighed. _"Gotta go. Be careful."_

"Alright. Bye." She hung up, hearing a click.

"Okay… where to?" She asked casually, terse quality to her voice dissipated in a matter of deep breaths. "All we've been doing is going to places I needed to go. I'd feel bad if you wanted to go somewhere and refused to tell me." Her voice had an edge that Wesker recognized.

'_Why does she worry about such a thing? Moreover her tone suggests that if I do, I had better tell her.' _He smirked amusedly for a split second. That side which unintentionally demanded he tell her obviously showed she cared a tiny bit. "Dear heart, I do not require to go anywhere."

"Okay, if you're sure." She sighed then started to drive.

"By the way…why did you pack your weapons? I did say I would provide weapons and ammo." He suddenly remembered.

"Well… I don't know. I feel comfortable with weapons that I've owned for awhile." She shrugged, turning the wheel to turn into the lane she needed. "It's a survivor thing."

"Ah, I see." His eyes flickered from her face back to the road. "But if you wish to select more weapons from my arsenal, and more ammunition, you may."

"Thank you Wesker." She gave a smile, pulling into the parking lot of her building. When she had moved here to be in contact with everyone, she had meant being close enough to get there within an hour at best even in the worst traffic. Twenty minutes if they rushed. Half an hour if they jogged and if they had to they could walk to each other's homes.

Time and overall distance was a necessity in an outbreak. Even though the horrors of Umbrella were drawing to a close, they still knew the virus was lurking out there, somewhere. She knew where the virus was, for god's sake! _'Well, I kind of know where it is,'_ She thought sheepishly. _'Until we get there tomorrow I still don't know the exact location of it.'_

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked idly as they walked up the stairs, forgoing the lift to her apartment's floor.

"Nah… Just thinking." She replied back rather absently, and she reflexively unlocked the door with her key when they got to it, and entered, her eyes glazed over with her thoughts.

"Dear heart, you might want to—…" He was unable to finish his warning as she tripped over the edge of a carpet that had been ruffled up in their journey out of the apartment earlier. "…Watch where you're shuffling your feet."

"Err… whoopsie?" She laughed at herself as she pushed herself off the floor and rose to her feet.

'_Woooow, Clairey, SMOOTH.'_ The voice spoke sarcastically.

'_Shut up you.' _She inwardly growled back at the thing as she straightened the rug with her toe, and then smiled at Wesker. "So, what do you want to do?"

He thought for a moment then shrugged. "I haven't an idea."

"Great," She murmured under her breath, and then her eye twitched as her bangs slipped into them once again. Wesker gave an amused smile and chuckle. "Well, I was going to do this tonight anyway, but I'm going to go trim my bangs."

His head tilted to the side. "You don't go to get a haircut?" He asked idly as he followed her into the bathroom where she dug through two drawers before finding the slender scissors with a victorious face.

"Not very often… See, well, I used to have student loans." She started explaining absently as she clipped just a tiny bit of her bangs at a time. "So I had to choose; food and the rent, or haircuts and new clothes. Guess which one I picked?"

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall in the view of the mirror with his sunglasses off, and his contacts were already out. _'Damn, he _does_ move fast.'_ She thought.

"Anyway, I guess I learned to make do with what I had. I only go to get my longer hair trimmed at Rebecca's every three months or so. My hair's resilient, I guess, from the outbreaks. It's been singed, splattered with blood, dirty from being unable to wash it, and not to mention in the T-veronica scandal it got this sticky webbing all over it." She was babbling, she knew, but he didn't care that she was and he listened intently.

"Your hair fits you perfectly then, dear heart."

She was startled for a minute then gave a laugh. "I suppose it does."

After she had clipped her bangs just enough, she put away the scissors and left the bathroom, Wesker already waiting for her in the living room.

"Well, there's nothing left to do… Err… I think I'm gonna play some video games." She sighed. She had a video game system that she played every once in awhile, but it wasn't hooked up right at the moment. It was actually in the cabinet that was built into the stand that the television rested on in the living room.

He followed her silently, almost curiously, to the living room, and watched her hook it up and plug it in, click on the television and flip it to the correct channel for the gaming system, and then unwind the controller as she made her way over to the couch and then plopped down. Without saying a word he sat beside her, shade-less eyes peering at the screen.

When the clomping of hooves over the sound of some pretty music came on, along with a the screen graphics of a man on a horse riding through a field at nighttime appeared on the screen, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. The graphics were old, he mused. With his improved eyesight he looked at the grey gaming system. "N64?" He asked aloud.

"Yeah." She said as she hit start twice and then picked a file that had the name 'Link' on it, with a bunch of little symbols that Wesker didn't really get that probably showed the progress through the game came up, and she hummed in happiness as she selected that folder to continue her game. "It's an older game system, as is this game. It's a pretty good one."

"What's its title?" He asked, the cheery music coming on in what looked to be a house with primitive furniture registering on his eyes.

"_Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time_." She shrugged. "It's full of puzzles. The blonde guy I'm controlling is Link. And the little ball of light," She clicked a button on the large, oddly-shaped controller to bring out the aforementioned ball of light with wings. "Is Navi. She's Link's partner on the quest to save Hyrule—the land they live in."

He nodded, soaking that in, entranced by the game. "Why are there only children in this place?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. It seems that he would be asking quite a bit of questions through this session of gaming. "This is the Kokiri forest. Those are the Kokiri children—who never grow older. This quest goes over several or so years in actuality. The whole goal of the game is to defeat an evil man named Ganondorf."

"Hmm."

"I prefer to call him Ganondork though."

That drew some chuckles.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Approximately one-and-a-half hours later, she pointed at the screen victoriously as the boss of the Bottom of the Well, Dead Hand, died, and he left behind a full heart container and the Lens of Truth. "Ha! I beat you, ya sucker!"

Wesker chuckled as she grinned and collected the heart container then exited; Link being lifted out of the dungeon in a crystal and deposited outside the tricky, illusion-filled dungeon. The entire time she'd been playing through the small dungeon, apparently a series of catacombs in the bottom of a well, she'd been explaining the game to him. It had been fairly amusing when she'd come to the ReDeads, and had taunted them then cursed when one had screamed and paralyzed Link, leading her to mash buttons like crazy and when she got free she whipped out the apparently magical blue Ocarina of Time and played a tune that froze the ReDeads.

He shook his head as she unhooked the system after saving like crazy—two or three times—and she smiled back at him.

"It's an amusing game, dear heart." He chuckled.

"I guess so. It's one of my favorites, anyway." She shrugged, and clicked the television off.

It was only about six in the afternoon then, and she walked back to the couch and plopped herself back in her spot, next to Wesker. "Grah. Now there's _really_ nothing to do."

He chuckled. She was pouting, and he found it amusing. "Well, Miss Redfield, it seems we are in a bind."

She gave an exasperated sigh as his chest rumbled with his chuckles. "Yeah, I know that Wesker." She rolled her eyes. Her eyes wandered to the DVD shelf and DVD player. "Hmm… Do you want to watch a movie?"

He blinked. "…That seems to be acceptable."

"Okay!" She cheerfully popped to her feet and walked over to the TV, setting it up for the DVD player. "You pick out a movie, 'Kay?"

He nodded although she couldn't really see and got up, picking the first movie that looked halfway decent. He handed it to her and her eyebrow rose.

"_A Series of Unfortunate Events_?" She asked, and he shrugged. She popped it into the player then brought the remote over with her, and they settled back into their spots on the couch, comfortable with each other's presences.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

As the credits rolled, Wesker watched the animation with a scrap of interest before he looked to Claire, ready to comment on the movie. A small smile touched his lips when he noticed she'd fallen asleep leaning against the couch. "Dear heart," He called, shaking her shoulder slightly. "It's only about eight. If you sleep now you'll be awake all night."

She roused, and opened her eyes shortly after murmuring an "Oh, right.", and her blue eyes met with his, thankful that he'd woke her up. "Oh, right… we'd better eat dinner. You hungry?"

'_Well… I am a tad hungry…'_ Wesker thought, nodded, and then got off the couch. After she'd gotten up and stretched, he followed behind her slightly as they went into the kitchen.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

After cooking together—which was surprisingly natural, considering she didn't even know he was still alive until a few days ago, and that he used to try to kill her brother—they sat down to a meal of pork chops and instant mashed potatoes.

"Mm…" She smiled, putting a dollop of butter onto the potatoes, and then slid the container to Wesker who did the same, and then she started cutting up the pork chop.

"…Dear heart, this mission will be dangerous. You could back out right now with no complaints from me." He spoke quietly.

"It's fine Wesker. I've been in dangerous situations before… it's nothing new." She spoke patiently, and resolutely. "Besides… I have nothing else to do, so this is something that I can do for awhile." She shrugged. "I don't really mind. I hate having nothing to do. I never was the couch-potato type…"

About five minutes of comfortable silence passed as they ate, each staring blankly at their plates.

"Well… I'm finished." She stated hollowly, picking up the plate and getting up, going over to the sink. "…Well, I'm going to go to bed… It's about nine, anyway, and I might as well sleep more due to the fact I need to store up some energy."

"All right dear heart." He agreed, wondering why she had a sudden change of tone. Perhaps she was regretting her choice? Or did reality slap her in the face at some point? Perhaps it was something else… "Sweet dreams. I will wake you up early tomorrow if you are not already up."

"Thank you." She smiled, but was clearly thinking of something else, as she exited the kitchen and went to her room, ready to start preparing for bed.

'_What could that be about?'_ Wesker frowned, then he spotted the magnetic calendar on the refrigerator, and cold realization trickled through his curiosity-muddled mind.

The date was September twenty-eighth… He remembered that day all too well, as would the auburn-haired woman trying to slip into sleep as he thought. The day when the nightmare had started for the young Redfield, the day when she became a true combatant for survival… The day that she got tied into Umbrella's mess. And also the day that changed her life.

He couldn't really say if it was for the better or not, though, and that troubled him slightly, for some odd reason.

* * *

**K.L.K- And so ends this terribly late chapter. I am sorry, dear readers! I became engrossed with school, with talking to my friends, and other such activities. Plus I have been writing up a storm, just… not on this one… **

**Claire- I've noticed. How is H.N.B going?**

**K.L.K- (smiles) Splendidly! It's slowed a little due to the fact that I have to get the documents and the areas from Resident Evil Zero down, but other than that it's great! I'm having lots of fun writing with that character…**

**Wesker- I presume you've started more fanfictions on the side?**

**K.L.K- Yeah… I'm working on a few, plus I'm still working on the one at school, and I started writing a Haunting Ground—Or Demento, its other title—fanfiction about the time that I hid and got caught in the House of Truth… Scared the shit out of me, I screamed and ran. Haha…**

**Wesker-…Okay then… How are you progressing on REmake?**

**K.L.K- Err… I blame the fear of Crimson Heads!**

**Jill- (dryly) In other words you haven't played it since you got killed a few times, correct?**

**K.L.K-… (Mumbles) Yes.**

**Chris- It's not that bad, you know.**

**K.L.K- To hell it's not! I'm terrible with ammo conservation at times, and the fact that the fuckin zombies come back AFTER you effing kill them……No. Just no. I'm going to HATE playing that, but meh. I really want to do it. I think it will be interesting with the new-ish puzzles and _especially_ Lisa Trevor… **

**Wesker-… She would NOT die in the Umbrella Chronicles…**

**K.L.K- (simply) I know! And her screwed up story is intriguing. I love it. **

**Claire- shouldn't you be getting to bed soon? Its ten-twenty pm.**

**K.L.K- (checks clock) HOLY SHITAKE MUSHROOMS! It **_**is**_**… Good thing I had no Homework today. Anyway, now that the story is picking up in the next chapter—they finally get out of Colorado—I do believe I should get a faster update. But it's nice outside here in Ohio, so don't take my word to be one-hundred percent truthful…**

**Sherry- (runs up) K.L.K?**

**K.L.K- (looks down at Sherry) Yes Sherry-chan? What is it?**

**Sherry-……(bites lip) I had a nightmare… Can you come tuck me in with Claire?**

**K.L.K- (looks to Claire, then Sherry, then nods with a soft look) Alright honey, we'll be right there. We just have to wrap up the chapter.**

**Sherry- (smiles) Okay! (Runs off into the Closet of Character's Rooms)**

**K.L.K- Please re—!**

**Jill/Barry/Chris- REVIEW!**

**K.L.K/Claire-… (Shakes their heads then go into the Closet of Character's Rooms to tuck in Sherry)**


End file.
